


Kickback

by justbreathe80



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tried to think of anything but the smell of the gunpowder and the way Vecchio stayed still and steady, barely moving on the kickback, and how fucking hot that was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kickback

One.

Two.

Three.

Vecchio's hands were tight on the gun, arms stretched out in front of him, bottom lip caught in his teeth as he fired. Again. Four. Five. Six.

Ray would never call Vecchio classically handsome; in fact, he was not Ray's type, not one bit. You really couldn't get much further from Stella, small and blonde and gorgeous, except for the ridiculously overpriced and annoyingly flattering clothes. Vecchio was nothing he ever wanted, not at this point in his life.

Except right now, Vecchio, his face hard and concentrating, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, just a little, tiny flash of gold chain, cuffs unbuttoned and rolled up, gray wool pants and soft black Italian leather shoes. He was perfect. He was everything Ray wanted, and Ray had to shake his head a bit and focus back on the target in front of him. Try not to shoot anything he wasn't supposed to.

And, yeah, Vecchio also looked kind of dumb, with the safety glasses and the huge plastic ear muffs, but Ray had them on too, and he was having a hard time paying attention to anything but the rhythmic sound of the shots firing and hitting the targets, one after another, both his and Vecchio's, and the way his dick was getting harder and pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

Fuck.

He tried to think of anything but the smell of the gunpowder and the way Vecchio stayed still and steady, barely moving on the kickback, and how fucking _hot_ that was. He trained his eyes back on his own target, pushed his glasses up on his nose a bit, and fired the next three shots right into the heart, the bullets flying through the hole made by the first. Yeah.

He could feel it getting hotter in the room, and the metal in his hands was warming from his own body heat, feeling hot and hard and strong in his hands. Glock 22. Fucking _great_ gun. Ray was smiling and shooting, emptying the clip and reloading, and getting lost in it in the rhythm of it, not even really noticing Vecchio, sweating slightly, gripping hard, doing the same right beside him.

"Pretty good shot, Kowalski," came a whisper in his ear, and he jerked so hard that he missed the target completely. When he turned around, flipping the safety on the gun, Vecchio was right up against Ray, grinning, his glasses and muffs in one hand, gun in the other.

"Jesus fuck," Ray muttered, planting one hand on Vecchio's chest and pushing, making Vecchio stumble back just a bit. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you in the fucking face, asshole."

"You like my face too much," Vecchio drawled, holstering his gun and dropping the contents of his other hand on the floor. Ray started to holster his own gun, barely getting it in before Vecchio reached out and dragged him by the wrists, spinning him and slamming him up against the wall. "You're a fucking great shot," he said softly, face pressed close to Ray's ear, and Ray groaned as Vecchio's tongue licked along the shell of his ear. Vecchio smelled amazing - like leather and sweat and the expensive cologne he put on every morning - and Ray let Vecchio keep him pressed up against wall, the gun in the shoulder holster between them, while his body just melted at the touch. He sometimes shocked himself by how easy he was, like this.

"Holy shit," he gasped, as Vecchio bit down hard on his neck and slipped one hand between them to palm Ray's cock through his pants. It was killing him, too much and not enough all at once, and he kind of wanted to punch Vecchio, except Vecchio was playing along and starting to button his pants and pull down the zipper. He spared a quick thought for being in a public place, but it was late and no one had been around since they showed up. He was totally willing to take the chance.

Vecchio laughed softly when Ray whimpered as Vecchio's hand wrapped around his dick, and Ray half-heartedly slapped his hand at Vecchio's arm. As much as he could, considering that all of his higher thought processes and muscle control seemed to be gone, all focused in the hot, tight slide of Vecchio's fist. Everything came down to _Vecchio_ and _hand_ and _dick_, which was good enough for Ray. Hell yeah. "Come on," he whispered, and Vecchio picked up the pace, just a little, not teasing, just going for it.

"You are such a kinky bitch," Vecchio said. Asshole. He would have protested, but Vecchio was sinking down to his knees in his $300 wool pants and taking Ray's cock into his mouth, and Ray just cupped Vecchio's head and held on. It wasn't like Vecchio was going to be fucking saying anything anytime soon, not with the way he was swallowing Ray's dick, over and over again.

"Oh god, yeah, so fucking good - " Ray whispered, holding Vecchio's head close and sliding through his lips, over and over again, and he wanted to be cool, make it last, fucking Vecchio's mouth and throat until he was hoarse the next morning at the precinct, but he was already halfway there just from the feel of the metal in his hands and how fucking good Vecchio looked with that gun.

Vecchio hummed around Ray's dick, and that was it - Ray was holding on, a little tighter than was polite (but then again, it wasn't polite to call someone a kinky bitch, either, regardless of whether or not it was true) and coming his fucking brains out, down Vecchio's throat. Vecchio stayed on him, sucking him through it, until Ray had to slide his hands down to Vecchio's cheeks and push him off.

"Nice," Vecchio said, smiling and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, still with that shit-eating grin on his face from before, even though his lips were kind of red and swollen. Ray blinked and got himself together enough to reach a hand down to Vecchio, helping him up to his feet. Vecchio crowded him up against the wall, and Ray could feel Vecchio's erection through his pants, on Ray's hip. Yeah.

"Who's the kinky bitch now, huh?" Ray said, a challenge in his voice, and Vecchio laughed, but Ray cut him off by hauling Vecchio in with a hand on his neck, pressing his lips to Vecchio's and pushing his tongue past to lick his own taste out of Vecchio's mouth. Vecchio's hands were fisted in Ray's t-shirt, right above his hips and right under the gun, and they stayed like that for a while, lazily making out against the wall, Ray's pants still undone and his dick still out. It was stupid and amazing and so fucking hot.

When they finally pulled away, breathing hard, Vecchio braced his hand on the wall next to Ray's head. "Come on, make yourself decent, and let's go pick up Fraser."

"Okay," Ray said shakily. It was going to be a damn long time before he could come back to the range. Hell, he was worried about the next time he fired his weapon on duty, or stapped on his holster in the morning.

But he had a damn hot fancy dressed Italian and a red serge-wearing Mountie at home, so maybe he could get it out of his system, or bring them both the next time.


End file.
